


Crybaby

by fuzipenguin



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Crying, Established Relationship, M/M, Missionary Position, Oral Sex, Other, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, crying during orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 08:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20386729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Jazz and Bluestreak have a loving relationship, one meaningful enough that Jazz dares brings up one of his darkest personal secrets.





	Crybaby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CosmosKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmosKitty/gifts).

> sponsored by scraplet/cosmoskitty

The sound Bluestreak made when he overloaded was one of pure satisfaction. Every time his valve calipers contracted around Jazz’s spike, a heady warmth spread further and further throughout his body, making him bite his lower lip at the wonderful sensation.

About thirty seconds later, just when awareness was starting to return to Bluestreak’s processor, Jazz roughly bottomed out. He ground against the apex of Bluestreak’s thighs, a quiet groan heralding Jazz’s release and Bluestreak hummed contentedly at the feel of transfluid pulsing into the depths of his valve. He tightened his knees against Jazz’s waist, fingers stroking the underside of his sensitive bumper.

Jazz shuddered, his visor dim as he continued to make lazy thrusts, each motion shooting aftershocks up Bluestreak’s spinal strut.

“Good?” Jazz asked, slowly leaning back onto the heels of his pedes. He soothingly ran his hands up and down the outside of Bluestreak’s thighs, and Bluestreak let his lower limbs go limp, knees falling open.

“Mmm… always. Get down here and kiss me,” Bluestreak commanded, his fingers digging into Jazz’s side-seams and tugging. With a quirk of one corner of his lips, Jazz withdrew enough so he could lean over Bluestreak on hands and knees. Jazz’s spike dripped a hot mix of their combined fluids onto Bluestreak’s abdomen as they kissed, glossa tangling together in a leisurely slide.

Jazz pressed as close as their bumpers would allow, the scrape of their plating sending a tingle through Bluestreak’s haptic net.

“I swear to Primus…” Bluestreak murmured, breaking away from Jazz’s mouth to press hot, open-mouthed kisses against his jaw. “I swear to Primus I’m gonna reformat myself one of these days so we’ll be better able to snuggle post overload.”

Jazz chuckled, shuffling higher up Bluestreak’s body and rolling onto his side. Bluestreak eagerly slid closer, nuzzling Jazz’s collar fairing. Beneath Bluestreak’s hand, he could faintly feel the slowing beat of Jazz’s spark through his chest armor, and he let out a happy sigh.

“I dunno, Blue. I love ya just the way ya are,” Jazz replied. He gently cupped the back of Bluestreak’s head and pressed a kiss to the top of his helm. “And we manage.”

Bluestreak supposed that they did. They both had rather prominent chests, but they’d worked out ways to be physically compatible pretty quickly.

“Fine. All right,” Bluestreak sighed, raising himself up enough so he could straighten out his lower sensory panel. Then he flopped right back down, arm sliding across Jazz’s middle. He hugged his lover close, inhaling the scent of ozone, polish, and something sharp that was uniquely Jazz. Bluestreak had never been able to pinpoint what it was, only that it always lingered. It was a comforting smell, and with their limbs entangled so reassuringly, Bluestreak floated for a while, letting his mind drift.

“I love you too, you know,” Bluestreak mumbled after a few minutes. He tightly squeezed Jazz’s waist before relaxing again, and Jazz huffed out a small laugh.

“I do. I do know,” he said quietly, pressing another kiss to Bluestreak’s helm.

Bluestreak figured that they would both fall into recharge and sleep the rest of the shift away. Or at least Bluestreak would. Jazz usually couldn’t sleep more than a few hours at a time and would get restless, eventually slipping out of Bluestreak’s embrace and wandering off. But before that, he was completely Bluestreak’s, held tight within the circle of his arms.

Just as Bluestreak was succumbing completely to his recharge protocols, Jazz spoke up again.

“… Blue?”

“Mm… yeah?” Bluestreak said, the words buried against Jazz’s chest. “Everythin’ ‘k?”

He thought maybe Jazz was thirsty or wanted to shift positions, something that wouldn’t require much, if any, processing power on Bluestreak’s part, so he didn’t make an effort to wake up.

“Have ya… have ya ever wondered why ya never spike me?”

Oh. So not thirsty then. This was actually much more serious, judging by the hesitant quality in Jazz’s tone. Jazz rarely let uncertainty show and only to the people he trusted the most.

Spark warming a little at the thought that he was on that short list of people, Bluestreak forced himself to stay loose-limbed and relaxed, while jumpstarting his processor into gear. It sounded like he would need to be alert for this.

“Never really thought about it,” Bluestreak admitted. “I like you spiking me… _you _seem to like spiking me… I know people can have preferences, so I just assumed yours was spiking.”

Jazz started stroking Bluestreak’s shoulder, fingers lingering over certain seams. “Do you have preferences? … have I been neglectin’ ya?”

At that Bluestreak forced himself upright, staring down into Jazz’s face, aghast. “No! Don’t you ever think that! You’ve always treated me well and to answer your question… no, I don’t really have preferences. Jazz… what’s brought this on?”

Even without being able to see behind the visor, Bluestreak knew Jazz was shifty-opticked. Bluestreak reached out and threaded the fingers of one hand through Jazz’s and squeezed.

“Tell me, sweetspark… is there something _you _want? Would you rather switch things up?”

“I…” Jazz paused, staring down at their interlocked fingers. He took a deep in vent of air and then let it out, obviously nervous. “Truth be told… I like bein’ spiked. Like, _really_ like it.”

Bluestreak rolled his optics in exasperation. “Is that all? Primus, Jazz, I thought you wanted me to tie you up and beat you or something! Not that I wouldn’t, if you really wanted me to, but… what…?”

Jazz slowly shook his head, biting his lower lip. “I almost wish it was that instead,” he mumbled, half to himself. “It’s jus’… it’s jus’ when I have a valve overload, I can get… emotional.”

Bluestreak frowned. Still retaining his grip on Jazz’s fingers, he maneuvered himself so that he was sitting completely upright, legs stretched down the bed. Before he could get any farther, Jazz practically flung himself atop Bluestreak. He buried his face in Bluestreak’s lap, fingers clutching his waist so tightly it verged on painful.

“Ok… emotional how?” Bluestreak asked slowly. This was obviously a big deal to Jazz, but Bluestreak still didn’t see what the problem was. “I mean, I’ve certainly gotten pretty loud before…”

“No, ‘s not a matter of bein’ loud,” Jazz said, although now that Bluestreak thought about it, he realized that Jazz _was _relatively quiet in the berth. “I get… I… I _cry.”_

Bluestreak blinked down at the top of Jazz’s helm wondering if he had heard the muffled words correctly. “You… cry?”

Jazz abruptly pushed himself upright, kneeling on the bed a few feet away. He pointed accusingly at Bluestreak. “See! Even _you _think it’s weird! I can’t tell ya how many partners have been freaked out by it and want me to go back to spikin’ them. Or to stop seein’ me completely!”

Before Jazz could say another word, Bluestreak jerked forward up onto his knees so fast that his sensory panels flapped wildly to help him regain balance. Once he did, he slapped a palm across Jazz’s mouth and glared at him.

“Hush!” Bluestreak scolded. “I was making sure I heard you correctly. I never said I thought it was weird; don’t put words in my mouth!”

Jazz made a muffled noise and then slowly sank back down onto the heels of his pedes. He finally nodded and Bluestreak removed his hand, watching Jazz for any further outbursts. Once he was convinced Jazz was suitably cowed, Bluestreak reached out and grasped Jazz’s hands again.

“Now… you cry during valve overloads, yes? That’s what you said?”

Jazz mutely nodded, looking miserable. His normally steady fingers trembled in Bluestreak’s grip. “Yeah. Loud sobbin’, messy tears, all of it,” he whispered. “I can’t stop it… it’s jus’ so…”

“There are lots of reasons people cry during interface,” Bluestreak pointed out reasonably. “I don’t have a problem with it, as long as you’re not actually experiencing pain or distress.”

“People have said that before…” Jazz said, staring down into his lap. Bluestreak shook Jazz’s hands and ducked down so that he could catch his optics.

“Jazz… I’m not just ‘people’. I love you,” Bluestreak said softly, his very spark crying out with his earnestness. “I love all of you, even the bad parts or the parts I don’t understand. I would never reject you for crying during overloads.”

Jazz’s mouth worked for a moment before actually producing any words. “… really?”

Bluestreak flung himself forward, bumper notching over Jazz’s so he could hug Jazz’s head to him. “Yes. _Yes,_ you ridiculous mech. Now, if you go on a killing rampage, we’re going to have words, but other than that, I’d say we’re good.”

“… yer one in a million, Blue,” Jazz murmured into Bluestreak’s throat. He clung to Bluestreak, moving easily with him when Bluestreak started rocking back and forth.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Bluestreak replied, gently leaning back. He grasped the sides of Jazz’s helm and placed a kiss on the tip of his nasal ridge. “Did you want me to spike you now?”

Jazz paused and considered it, but ultimately shook his head. “Naw, I’m all…” he made a gesture towards his head. “Next time, k? Just wanna snuggle and catch a little recharge.”

He _did_ look tired, Bluestreak decided. Jazz often looked tired, in the privacy of his or Jazz’s quarters. There was a lot on Jazz’s plate, a lot that took his attention, although he always made time for Bluestreak.

“That sounds great,” Bluestreak replied, already tugging Jazz backwards with him. They quickly resettled, Jazz clinging just a little bit tighter than normal to Bluestreak as they nodded off into recharge.

\--

A little over a week passed before they could really get together for any significant length of time. And even then, Bluestreak assumed Jazz would just fall into bed and go directly into recharge considering he’d recently come back from a dangerous reconnaissance mission.

However, after running through the washracks and getting a cube of energon into him, Jazz perked up a little. He put on an old episode of As the Kitchen Sinks and the two of them cuddled together on the bed, exchanging light kisses and soft caresses. When Jazz’s fingers started tracing Bluestreak’s headlights however, Bluestreak knew that Jazz likely wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon.

Jazz knew full well how sensitive the inner rim of those headlights were and he ruthlessly used that knowledge to build Bluestreak’s charge. Their kisses grew deeper, more intent and Bluestreak eventually slipped into Jazz’s lap, letting him fondle sensitive doorwing hinges until Bluestreak’s panel slid aside. 

“Blue…” Jazz whispered against Bluestreak’s throat, nibbling at the large energon line there. “My sexy lil Blue…”

“’m technically bigger than you are,” Bluestreak said faintly, hips arching up as Jazz gripped his spike and quickly stroked it to full pressurization.

“Mmm… _yeah_ ya are…” Jazz said, thumb rubbing under the sensitive spike head. “This is gonna feel real good in me, I can already tell.”

The tiny rocking of Bluestreak’s hips paused and he pushed back from Jazz to look down at him. Jazz let go immediately, looking panicked. His white optics flicked to the side, obviously seeking out the visor he had laid on the table earlier, but Bluestreak wasn’t about to let him hide.

“Sorry, I…”

Bluestreak reached out and placed a finger over Jazz’s lips and shushed him. “You didn’t do or say anything wrong. I just wanted to ask if I could use my mouth on you first.”

Oral lubricant started flowing at the thought. He already loved to give Jazz pleasure by sucking and licking his spike. The prospect of being allowed to service Jazz’s valve was heady and an anticipatory thrill ran through him, making his fuel pump race.

Jazz looked flummoxed. And then excited. The corners of his lips curved up and he nodded, tweaking Bluestreak’s door hinges again in approval.

Bluestreak immediately scooted backwards, hands bracketing Jazz’s waist. He lifted himself up in order for Jazz to spread his legs. Bluestreak eagerly settled between them, lowering his front half until his face was just a few inches away from Jazz’s closed panel. He blew a small stream of air over the cover and Jazz shivered, one of his hands reaching up to stroke the back of Bluestreak’s helm.

“Are you going to open for me?” Bluestreak asked, nuzzling the warm piece of metal before gazing upwards at Jazz.

The cover snapped aside, Jazz letting out a shaky vent. His spike immediately started rising, and Bluestreak spared a moment to give it a stroke, but then turned his attention further downward.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t touched Jazz here at all; he’d stroked over the plush pleats, thumbed his node, and even fingered him a few times. But Jazz had always managed to distract Bluestreak either back towards his spike or with Bluestreak’s own pleasure.

Sneaky saboteur.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how pretty you are here,” Bluestreak said, admiring the valve displayed in front of him. On either side of Bluestreak’s shoulders, Jazz’s thighs trembled with nerves, but all Bluestreak could see were plump, pure white pleats and a brightly glowing royal blue anterior node. Just inside the entrance to Jazz’s valve, Bluestreak spied several more nodes, tiny ones that winked at him enticingly.

“Flatterer,” Jazz murmured as Bluestreak extended a finger and gently stroked it down Jazz’s slit. The pleats were already damp and his finger easily slipped past them, directly into the valve channel. Jazz and Bluestreak sighed almost in unison as he gently eased another finger alongside the first. He pumped them in and out a few times before removing them and sucking them into his mouth.

Jazz moaned, his knees reflexively pressing against Bluestreak’s shoulders. “Yer gonna kill me, Blue.”

Bluestreak winked at Jazz while sucking the fluids off his digits. He removed them with a quiet ‘pop’ of his lips and leaned forward, ex-venting a hot gust of air over Jazz’s valve again. “Only in the best ways,” Bluestreak promised.

Unable to hold back any longer, Bluestreak lowered his head the rest of the way, nuzzling into Jazz’s wet folds. His glossa dipped inwards and his optic shutters fluttered shut at the way Jazz’s walls flexed. He explored around the rim, thoroughly sucking and nibbling at the malleable mesh before traveling upwards and licking at the nubbin peeping out at him from between swollen pleats.

He gently set his denta around the bright sensor and pulled upwards, Jazz arching forward over Bluestreak’s head with a strangled shout. He fell back down when Bluestreak freed up a hand and blindly shoved at his bumper, but Jazz’s pedes dug into Bluestreak’s lower back, urging him to continue. Bluestreak obliged him, releasing the hot node and licking it over and over again with broad strokes of his glossa.

“Oh, Primus… Primus, Blue, that’s good… tha’s so good…” Jazz moaned, hands cradling the back of Bluestreak’s helm. Bluestreak hummed happily in reply, Jazz’s hips bucking up at the vibrations with a choked off curse.

It didn’t take long for Jazz’s pelvis to start rocking against Bluestreak’s mouth. Lubricant stained his lips, flowing almost faster than he could lick it up. Jazz’s moans deepened, his words slurred together to be practically intelligible. Not that Bluestreak needed them. He could tell Jazz was getting close, the calipers of his valve clutching desperately at Bluestreak’s glossa every time he thrust it into the hot hole.

Bluestreak wound his arms around Jazz’s hips and bore him down to the berth surface, attacking Jazz’s node with single minded intensity. He licked it, sucked it, and rubbed over it with his nasal ridge until it was swollen and throbbing. Time was a far off concept. He didn’t care how much of it was passing; all he wanted was to feel Jazz break apart beneath him, hear his exultant noises ringing in the room.

Jazz didn’t disappoint.

After nearly another minute of concentrated effort, Jazz’s moans quickly rose in volume, culminating in one loud shout. He shuddered as he ground his array against Bluestreak’s mouth in tiny little jerks, his overload sweeping over him. Bluestreak shut his optics to better savor the sounds and the slow trickle of more lubricants welling up against his lips. Humming quietly, Bluestreak gentled the pressure of his glossa and swept it over the contracting inner pleats in soothing strokes as Jazz’s knees trembled mightily and then fell limp to each side.

Pleased with himself, Bluestreak slowly drew back, licking his lips for the final drops of Jazz’s fluids. He looked up towards Jazz’s face, about to say something about how Jazz tasted. Then he paused when he saw Jazz’s forearm pressed tightly over his optics. If Bluestreak hadn’t known better he would have been worried by the wet cheeks, trembling lower lip, and shaky gasping.

But he did know better and he found that he had been completely honest before. The sight of Jazz crying wasn’t bothersome in the slightest. In fact, it was a little gratifying. Bluestreak had pleasured his partner well enough to give him a satisfactory conclusion; a warm swell of pride rose up inside him.

Bluestreak slowly slid his hands up the outside of Jazz’s thighs and then started crawling up his lover’s frame. He wanted to give Jazz time to collect himself if he felt like he needed it. But he also wanted to let Jazz know that he was still there.

“That sounded like a good time,” Bluestreak said finally. He kept himself propped up on his palms while his lower body settled between Jazz’s sprawled out legs.

Jazz shuddered out a shaky ex-vent and nodded, his other hand blinding patting at Bluestreak’s shoulder. Once he found it, he grasped Bluestreak at the nape and squeezed gently.

“Yer too good to me, Blue,” Jazz mumbled. After a moment, he sniffled and slowly drew his arm back. Their gazes met for a split second before Jazz averted his optics and began scrubbing at his face. Bluestreak leaned his weight to one side and placed gentle fingers of the back of Jazz’s wrist, stilling his hand.

“You’re pretty here, too,” Bluestreak murmured before leaning down and kissing Jazz’s wet cheeks, one by one. Jazz’s vents caught and he closed his optics.

“… flatterer. This is… this is nothin’, by the way,” Jazz finally said, waving a hand at his face.

“Oh?” Bluestreak questioned. He nuzzled Jazz’s jawline and gently rocked his hips upward. His spike slipped in the wet folds of Jazz’s valve and Jazz moaned with a subtle arch of his back. “Well, I’m still here, sweetspark… if you think you can handle more.”

Jazz froze for a long second and Bluestreak worried he had overstepped. Then Jazz gave a languorous stretch and finally reopened his optic shutters. He coyly peered up at Bluestreak, tilting his pelvis so that on Bluestreak’s next mock thrust, his spike caught against the rim of Jazz’s valve.

“Show me what you got, Bluebaby,” Jazz purred.

Bluestreak smiled in relief, leaning down to passionately kiss Jazz. By the time Bluestreak drew back, Jazz was panting again, his arms and legs wrapped around Bluestreak and urgently tugging at him.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Jazz muttered impatiently, “Get _in_ me, al…”

Jazz’s voice broke as Bluestreak shifted slightly and pushed into Jazz with one slow, glorious slide. Bluestreak’s mouth dropped open as his spike was gloved in delicious, rippling heat from tip to base. Maybe it _had_ been a while since he’d last spiked someone; he’d almost forgotten how wonderful it felt.

“Oh_hh… you feel so good_,” Bluestreak said in a babbled rush, his head dropping down to rest his forehelm against Jazz’s chest. He wanted to kiss his lover again, but he wouldn’t be able to and still remain so deeply seated within Jazz at the same time because of their stupid bumpers.

… _definitely_ needed a reformat.

“… yeah,” Jazz choked out, his legs coming up on either side of Bluestreak’s hips, ankles crossing at the small of his back. “Love you… love ya, Blue.”

“I love you too,” Bluestreak said, distracted with the influx of sensations as he drew back a little and thrust again, relishing the way Jazz’s channel grasped at him. “… ok?”

Jazz gave a choked laugh and nodded, a tear welling up in the corner of his left optic. It spilled over, rolling down the side of his face as Bluestreak started moving with more surety. “Very much ok.”

Bluestreak’s body felt hypersensitive and warm and he wanted to let his processor take a back seat to things, but Jazz’s comfort was ultimately his concern. He wanted to bring Jazz to overload again. He wanted Jazz to know Bluestreak would watch him cry with nothing but love and admiration. Jazz deserved that knowledge especially since none of his previous partners had been able to, or wanted, to give him that.

So Bluestreak did his best to stave back his own climax. Instead, he varied his stokes, experimenting with the depth, speed, and angle until he found the right position and rhythm to make Jazz incoherent again. It fortunately didn’t take long; Jazz was still charged up despite his first overload.

“Oh, yeah… yeah, yeah, _yeah_,” Jazz chanted, meeting each of Bluestreak’s thrusts with wild abandon. “Right there… there… love ya in me…”

“I love _being_ in you,” Bluestreak murmured, clutching Jazz’s right outer thigh and hiking his leg up higher. It let Bluestreak push in even deeper and Jazz gave a surprised, guttural moan at the change in position. “I’m gonna do this every night… every time we’re together. I’m gonna just sink my spike into you and never leave. Gonna make you moan for me… cry for me… you’ll give everything up to me… won’t you?”

Bluestreak dimly recognized that he was saying things he’d never said before. But the look on Jazz’s face was so mesmerizing, the way awe and bliss tangled there together, relief and serenity overlaying them. Jazz was letting loose and Bluestreak was diving right after him.

It was no wonder Jazz cried from valve overloads. He was always so tightly wound, so stressed from taking care of the entire Autobot army. And here he was… letting Bluestreak take control of his pleasure… letting himself be stripped bare and taken care of himself. Bluestreak could see the gift that Jazz was giving him and he treasured every iota of it while also quickly becoming addicted to his new role.

“Gonna… gonna…!” Jazz gasped, fingers scrambling at Bluestreak’s shoulders. He pulled his other leg higher to match the first and Bluestreak pushed himself more onto his knees, practically folding Jazz in half. He thrust harder and more rapidly, eagerly watching Jazz’s optics flicker, his mouth go slack.

A few more tears welled up and trailed down his temples and he shook his head as if in denial. Bluestreak quickly wormed a hand out from under Jazz’s shoulder and reached up to cup his cheek.

“Do it, love. I have you. I’ll always have you,” Bluestreak murmured, gaze fixed on Jazz’s face.

He watched as the bliss twisted, Jazz’s expression flashing into one of fear as he hovered at his peak. “No, no, no… I love every bit of you, I promise… don’t hold back...”

Jazz tried to do just that, but Bluestreak could see the moment Jazz’s overload hit, the way it made him stiffen and go silent for several spark-stopping seconds. Then the high splintered, and Jazz began to violently tremble. He reflexively reached up to cover his face but Bluestreak grabbed his hand and pinned it to the berth above his head.

“Don’t… don’t hide from me, Jazz. It’s ok… it’s ok, I got you,” Bluestreak rushed to say. He fought to keep his own optics open, his frame tightening as his lower body continued to work. “I have you, love.”

Jazz tried to say something, maybe Bluestreak’s name, but it was too garbled, lost in the sobs that poured out of Jazz’s mouth. Bluestreak’s body shook with the force of his lover’s shudders, the added vibration the final stimulation needed to push Bluestreak over the edge as well.

Bluestreak honestly barely noticed. He felt the transfluid pulse out of his spike, felt the pleasure spread outwards through his limbs like sinking into a warm oil bath. But his body was on autopilot while his processor was focused on Jazz.

“You’re so beautiful… do you see what you do to me… do you see how much I love you… how much I _still_ love you?” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over Jazz’s wet cheek.

Jazz nodded weakly, hands clutching at Bluestreak’s wrists. His fingers tightened down as his engine hiccuped several times in a row and Bluestreak nuzzled Jazz’s bumper, gaze locked on his lover’s face.

The tears flowed freely, rolling down Jazz’s temples to dampen the pillow beneath his head. Vents opened fully, Jazz’s sobs started to quiet after a minute or so, petering off in intensity until he was just sniffling. His body still violently trembled however, so Bluestreak remained draped atop him, using his frame as an anchor.

Jazz’s optics shutters fluttered, parting slightly so he could stare dazedly at Bluestreak. He looked completely open, all his defenses down. Bluestreak stroked the soft metalmesh beneath Jazz’s right optic, marveling at the trust Jazz was displaying.

“You… yer not runnin’ away…” Jazz murmured wonderingly. He placed a hand over Bluestreak’s, flattening his palm against Jazz’s cheek.

“Oh, my precious_ idiot_,” Bluestreak said, his tone a mix of fondness and exasperation. Did Jazz really not get how much Bluestreak loved him?

“It would take an act of Primus to make me run away from you.”

More tears welled up in Jazz’s optics and he slid a hand up Bluestreak’s shoulder to the back of his neck. “I really don’t deserve you… c’mere.”

Bluestreak withdrew from Jazz’s valve and crawled higher up. He flopped down onto his side and drew Jazz into his arms, holding him tightly. Jazz pressed his tear-streaked face against Bluestreak’s throat and shook as Bluestreak stroked the back of his helm over and over.

“You deserve everything I have to give you and more,” Bluestreak murmured, placing a soft kiss against Jazz’s nearest sensory horn. “I love you.”

“Ya really don’t mind?” Jazz asked, face hidden. “Really?”

Bluestreak tightened his arms and let his consciousness fully immerse itself into his frame. He soaked up the last buzzes of physical pleasure as well as the emotional high which didn’t show signs of stopping any time soon.

“I do not mind. Really.”

Jazz sighed, his entire frame going limp as every last bit of tension flowed out of him. “Thank you. Thank you, Blue.”

Bluestreak chuckled, nuzzling the top of Jazz’s helm. He felt good. Warm and happy and _good_. He didn’t have a lot of good things in his life any more, but this was definitely at the top of his list.

“Trust me, Jazz… I can honestly say that it is my pleasure.”

~ End


End file.
